


Tales of the Jerall Mountains

by Dunkthebard



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Adventure, Anthology, Bruma (Elder Scrolls), Campfires, Daedra Worship (Elder Scrolls), Daedric Princes (Elder Scrolls), Elder Scrolls Lore, Fairy Tale Style, Family, Gen, Mages Guild (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform, Mountains, Nature, Other, Short, Solstheim (Elder Scrolls), Travelogue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:40:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28024860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dunkthebard/pseuds/Dunkthebard
Summary: A collection of adventure stories, local legends, and fairy tales of the Jerall Mountains published in 3E 433 by Yarvex Silver-Eye, a Skaal explorer, mercenary, and poet. He went on many adventures throughout the spine of Tamriel, and during his twilight years he recorded all he knew and remembered.
Kudos: 1





	1. My Tumble Down Herma-Mora's Mountain

_My mother, Rydilia, once told me this tale before she passed into the sea. She was a warrior and leader of our village. But beyond her skill in battle was her skill in unravelling the mysteries of the world. She could look at a riddle and know it like a child knows their own little secrets and desires. She had an infinite understanding of knowledge._

_So Herma-Mora, the trickster and deceiver of the forest, saw her as near him as kin. For she knew the pursuit of knowledge would drive her insane, and had the wisdom to hold on to some secrets and to let some go. Mora came to her many times. I remember his eyes and many words._

_She told Mora that in exchange for some knowledge, a secret she never told me, she would give Mora the innermost power of a sacred mountain near our village. Mora, always aware of mortal’s minds, was hesitant. Normally he would not be fooled by such a bargain. But this was Rydilia. This was the knowledge of an Arch-Mage and the wisdom of a Poet. Perhaps she did not lie. Mora accepted the exchange._

_It was a trick of course. Mora gave Rydilia the knowledge she desired. She embarked to reach the top of that sacred mountain. After three long days she returned. My father believed she was dead. But he did not understand her the way I did._

_She said she had ventured to the mainland. A realm I had never seen, full of strange people I had never met. She said she found a mountain just like ours by the village and tricked Mora into believing he had made some cosmically huge mistake in geography. I do not know why. Perhaps it was to throw off his scent. Perhaps it was more of a dance between two strange beings. I do not understand the wills of divine creatures._

_But in my later years I found Herma-Mora’s mistaken mountain. A shrine stood there to the Prince of Fate and Knowledge. Some worshipers and pilgrims were there to pay homage. I wondered if any of them knew the Prince like my mother did. I wondered if anything she had said had been true._

_The mountain spoke for me before I could utter a single word. The heavy snow broke loose above and came crashing down on us. When it became clear there was no escape a mage among the pilgrims cast a heavy shield spell around us. The white wall slammed into us. The mage’s spell would not hold, I could tell. He was a young looking Argonian. I grabbed hold of him and told him to give in. The man of the marsh did not seem to understand, but there was no time to argue. The spell broke and we were flung off the cliff._

_My father and uncles taught me how to survive an avalanche like this. They were common near our village. Sometimes you must flow with the snow to survive. I tried to cushion our fall as much as possible, but we still hit the lower mountain path hard._

_A few minutes later I awoke to see my Argonian friend shivering in the snow, his body half buried. I pulled out my ice pick and along with his magical flames we managed to break free and limp down the rest of the mountain. I asked his name. He said he was called Jixell._

_I turned my head and realized perhaps my mother was right, as she always was. It was the same sacred mountain from my youth, here by some strange roll of fate or coincidence._


	2. A Visit From A Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yarvex camps for the night and encounters a fellow wanderer in the wilds outside an old fort.

_One star-lit night I stirred my fire, but I could not rest. I was near a fortress of old, built long ago for some war that very few can even remember now. I sure couldn’t. I was willing to risk the wrath of the creatures of the woods and mountain passes, so I sang a quiet song to myself. It was a song from my home. My father taught it to me while on my first hunt, and I taught it to my son on his._

_“The snow drifts ever onward, but I can’t sleep, but I can’t sleep.” I painted the wind with my voice. My wishes were granted and a traveling stranger answered my call._

_She was a Dunmer with almost glowing red eyes and rough ginger hair. Her name she said was Saveri. She seemed startled at first by my presence, but then came to warm herself by my fire. “It is bitter cold tonight.” She spoke with a shiver and rubbed her grey hands together._

_“Aye. Sometimes the mountains don’t like visitors.” I smiled. “Somehow the cold always follows me wherever I go.”_

_“You should visit the Ashlands of Vvardenfell.” She replied._

_I laughed. “That I should. I’d like to see the snow follow me into the land of fire and smoke.”_

_She smiled back. “It would be a welcome change there I suspect.” She turned her eyes to the fort beyond us. “Do you know what lies in there?”_

_I sighed. “Warriors with swords I suspect, guarding something and probably full of spirit. Or perhaps they are undead, lost within their own souls. Once war taints a place, it’s deathly hold rarely moves on in a timely fashion.”_

_“You are right I suspect. I come here every now and then to see what they are doing up there. I dream about seeing the inside, but they’d never let me in.”_

_“Have you knocked?”_

_She let out a chuckle from her ash burned throat. “All this time and yet, I never thought of that.” She looked down into the fire and I saw her contemplate her own fate. She was a curious sort and spoke in riddles - the ideal stranger. “I wish for the day when I don’t see it anymore. It is fast approaching, but the days drag on like years.”_

_“Well then let us watch the castle together for a while. Perhaps in the morning we can try and say hello?”_

_She agreed. We both slowly fell asleep in the cold’s distant embrace. I awoke to see she had gone. She left behind in her place a book. I had seen a copy of it before - the Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes._

_It spoke about the world as if it wasn’t just right in front of me, and lying solid under my feet. My mother told me many times to live in the moment. After one thousand times, I finally listened to her. I closed the book. I left it where I had found it, for I knew she would return here again. To this day I wonder if she ever truly wanted her chosen fate._


End file.
